He Brings Me Word
He Brings Me Word
“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,” David writes (Psalm 143:8, NIV). I love that he asks God, “Bring me word.” I understand that to mean “I need to hear from you, God, early and often—and to know beyond a doubt it’s your voice I am hearing and no other.”
I, too, want to hear from God . . . but even so, I question his delivery at times. Still, he’s faithful to bring me word of his unfailing love. It’s in a favorite Emily Dickinson poem on the walls of a waiting room where I’d rather not have been:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops—at all.
It’s in a trio of well-timed kisses pressed to my forehead in a single day—each one received as a sweet benediction from God himself.
He brings me word of his love through the prayers of the saints, spoken for me when my own heart is too fearful or frazzled to form them myself. He brings me loving words from the Word alone: passages committed to memory and called to mind when they’re most needed, or read to me by friends who could not possibly have known how desperate I was to hear exactly the lines they were speaking. And he brings me tangible words in action spelled into my hands: a warm peach, a soft back pillow, a front-porch fern, and a happily walked dog—living words from the Father that say, “See how I care for you, little one?”
My Father brings me word, over and over again, of his unfailing love. Not because he’s afraid I’ll stop trusting him . . . but so that I’ll become more and more glad that I do! By these reminders and a hundred more, he brings his love for me front and center and proves that it is no mistake to depend on him for everything . . . and that there is no shame—ever—in lifting my soul up to him.
I’m certain of his unfailing love. How could I not be? He brings me word of it every single day.
Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you.
Psalm 143:8
